


Size Queen

by loupgarou1750 (LoupGarou)



Series: Daddy's Boy [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chan, Humor, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-15
Updated: 2008-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:52:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoupGarou/pseuds/loupgarou1750
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry gets his first wand. Snape's wand gets polished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Size Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Perfica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perfica/gifts), [perverse_idyll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perverse_idyll/gifts), [painless_j](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=painless_j).



> off-screen sex only, and not (alas) between S & H.

Diagon Alley was the most interesting place Harry had ever been. It wasn't just that people were dressed funny – although everybody, including his new daddy, was wearing a long dress – it was just chock full of things he'd never imagined, let alone seen before.

There was a shop called _Eeylops Owl Emporium_ (which Harry had no idea how to pronounce and which, for some reason, caused him to think of an eye dangling from its socket,) which sold owls, of all things. Next to it was a shop with a window full of puppies with the oddest forked tails. Harry felt something in his chest seize when one of them pressed his wet nose against the glass, right where his hand was. He turn and ran after his father who was already six shops past the one with the puppies. 'Da– uh, Professor? Can we get a dog? Huh? Can we? There's a shop with a bunch of them for sale! Pleeeease?' Harry clasped his hands in front of him and looked up at Snape, smiling his biggest smile, the one that showed all his teeth.

As usual, Snape's response made him feel strangely dizzy, as if his brains were oozing from his ears.

'You little pervert! Having a dog – or the dog having you, which I'd quite prefer – is not the sort of thing Snapes discuss in the middle of a busy street, in the full blaze of noon, or even in front of another person. It is the sort of thing Snapes keep very, very quiet!'

His Daddy's face was red with fury and Harry suddenly felt very, very small. He looked at his feet as he kicked something unidentifiable down the pavement. There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally, when it seemed the silence had stretched on for hours, Harry looked up. Snape's expression was somewhat milder, but he rolled his eyes skyward and said, 'Somebody please use an Unforgivable on me now.' He looked back down at Harry. 'That's not what you meant, is it? You little idiot. I do wish you'd learn to be clearer.'

Harry's jaw hit his skinny chest. That was so unfair! ''Can we get a dog?' was perfectly clear! How was it his fault Snape thought he meant something else? And what exactly had Snape even thought he meant? Harry tried to replay his dad's words – something about a blazing street and a quiet person. No. It didn't make any sense at all. But then Harry didn't understand half the things Snape said to him anyway. Still, unfair or not, sensible or not, it wouldn't do to make Snape grumpy. There might be no lap time. Harry liked lap time. Mostly. Snape was warm and not too bony, except for whatever it was that kept poking. Anyway, Harry was starting not to mind the pokey thing too much; wiggling against it for a bit always seemed to put Snape in a good mood and Harry would get several minutes of really good cuddles afterward.

'I'm sorry.' He shuffled his feet again. 'I won't ask for anything else. I promise.'

'See that you keep that promise. I'll have no topping from the bottom. The mere idea!'

Harry remembered that 'topping' was something he'd learn about when he was seventeen – so seventh year – and wondered if Snape was the professor for that class, or if he'd be learning from a different professor. Given his father's current mood, Harry decided he'd save the question for later and instead of saying anything else, he wrapped his small fingers as best he could around Snape's hand and smiled shyly up at him.

Snape's eyes widened. Suddenly he whirled and pulled Harry into a narrow alley between two buildings. Looming, he took a step forward and then another. Harry took two steps back. Snape advanced again, Harry backed up. Then Harry's bum was against the wall but Snape didn't stop advancing. The minor twitch that sufficed for a smile, played over Snape's lips, and Harry relaxed a bit, but his father was pressed firmly against him in several places and still loomed menacingly.

'Never again look at me that way in public, or I won't be responsible for my actions.'

Harry tilted his head further so he could see Snape's eyes. They weren't smiling, they were . . . smouldering, or something. They looked as if they might burst into flame at any moment, and Harry once again wondered if his father was a vampire. Probably not, he decided for the umpteenth time, reminding himself that it was currently broad daylight (although not very bright in the alley) and that his father slept in a regular, if enormous, bed rather than a coffin. Still . . . the look in Snape's eyes was rather mesmerising. Harry swayed dizzily.

'Oh no you don't! We haven't time and this isn't the place.' Snape looked around the dark alley. 'Although it _is_ rather . . . No! No! No! Come with me! The sooner we finish here, the sooner we can go home and do things properly.' He grabbed Harry by the hand and hurriedly dragged him back into Diagon Alley proper.

Harry had to skip to keep up, and that earned him another of Snape's glares. He shifted his gait to an awkward canter. Snape rolled his eyes but said nothing, merely grabbing Harry's shoulder and yanking him into the doorway of a narrow, dusty shop. Harry only barely caught a glimpse of a stick resting on a faded purple pillow in the window, before Snape pushed him through the door and nearly into the arms of an old man with creepy eyes that shone like silver platters.

'Severus Snape, as I live and breathe, and with young Harry Potter in tow. How unusual.' His shining eyes glanced from Snape to Harry and back again. His smile was as creepy as his eyes. 'Well, perhaps not so unusual as all that, now that I think on it. You have your mother's eyes, Mr Potter.'

'Yes, he does. And he keeps them in a box on the edge of the bathtub. Can we please get down to business, Ollivander? The boy starts school in a few weeks and must be properly prepared.'

Harry giggled at the image of his mother's eyes rolling around in a box and then, sure that Snape would snap at him again, covered his mouth with his hand and looked around the tiny room, shutting out the adults' conversation. There wasn't much to see, just a lot of dust and narrow boxes stacked one on top of the other from wall to wall and floor to ceiling; they made Harry's nose itch just looking at them. He wondered what was in them. They were too small to hold anything significant, but they looked interesting all the same. Dead insects, maybe? Tiny beetles with shiny shells? Creatures with a million billion legs?

Yanked out of his private musings by a rough hand on his shoulder and a snapped, 'Pay attention, you ninnyhammer!' Harry turned around and was practically pounced on by the old man. The silver eyes seemed to glow with a frightening light as his pale tongue sneaked out and swabbed his dry old lips.

'Measurements. Must take measurements,' the man said in an oily voice.

'Ollivander,' Snape said, his tone threatening . 

'It's necessary, Severus. You know it is.'

Ollivander ran the tape measure around Harry's chest, then from fingertip to armpit, then between his eyes. What were the measurements for? It all seemed so odd, and then twice as odd as Ollivander dropped to his knees and with tape measure still in hand, wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. Why did he have to scoot so close? His face was practically pressed against– 

'Hey!' Harry yelped as Ollivander stretched the tape measure from his ankle up to his crotch and nudged Harry's privates a little too enthusiastically. It was a relief when Snape hauled the old man to his feet.

'Off limits, you pathetic old queen,' Snape snapped.

_Queen? The old man is a queen? Of what country?_ Harry wondered. Something else he'd have to ask his father about later. Snape was scowling so hard his eyebrows met in the middle and now did not seem like a good time for questions.

Giving Snape a frightened look, Ollivander scurried off and began pulling boxes out of the high stacks. Taking the lid off a particularly grubby box, he pulled out a stick and extended it to Harry.

Snape shook his head, frowning. 'Far too small,' he said. 'We're here to buy a wand, Ollivander, not a pencil.'

'A wand?' Harry asked excitedly. 'We're here to buy a wand? For me?' He reached for the proffered wand. It was about six inches long and made from several kinds of wood twisted around each other. 'I like it. It's pretty.' 

Snape slapped his hand away. 'Pretty? PRETTY? A wizards wand is not supposed to be pretty! It's supposed to be firm, and weighty and feel good in the hand, and other places which I'll teach you about some other time. Pretty.' Snape shook his head in disgust. 'Some people will try to tell you that it's not the heft, it's the motion that makes for good wandwork. This will be said either by witches who suspect you may be incompetent, or wizards who are not gifted with a substantial wand themselves. You should ignore them.' 

Snape leant down and whispered in Harry's ear, 'You're a Snape, not a Malfoy, damn it! No Snape has ever waved anything less than a nine-inch wand.' Straightening up and turning to Ollivander, he said, 'He's small, but I have every reason to believe he'll be magically gifted. Bump him up.'

'But Professor Snape,' Ollivander protested, 'you know it's the wand that chooses the wizard.'

'Well any wand that chooses my . . . Harry Potter, had better be large enough to handle his magical emissions. I'm convinced that they'll be extraordinary.'

Sighing, Ollivander turned back to his pile of boxes and selected another one. Opening the lid, he displayed his next choice. 'Seven-and-a-half inches. Wormwood. Unic–'

Snape shook his head. 'Don't be ridiculous. He'll never get anywhere if that's what he's hiding in his pockets.'

'Just what did you have in mind, Professor?' Ollivander was beginning to sound irritated.

'I think one more similar to mine. You do remember my wand, Ollivander? You once said it was one of the finest you'd ever done.'

'Oh yes,' Ollivander suddenly smiled, a happy, reminiscent look on his face. 'Twelve inches, white oak with a rosewood tip, solid and intractable. A most excellent wand for all forms of penetrative magic. Oh yes indeed. Do you still have it?'

Snape looked smug. 'Of course.' He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 'Perhaps a little later you'd like to hold it in your hands again? Make sure it satisfies your strict performance standards? But I digress. Harry should have something more in keeping with my wand, I believe. The imp is small, but that should be no deterrent. By the time I'm through with him, he'll never be satisfied with less. Although I suppose,' his eyes raked Harry up and down, 'you might go a little smaller than mine, but just a little.'

Lip curling, Ollivander looked steadily at Snape for a moment, then shook himself. 'Hmm. Yes. Well. Let me see.' He wandered about his shop, running his fingers over this box and that, before sliding one out of a stack. 'I wonder,' he said, tapping a finger on his pursed lips. 'Well, why not?' He handed Harry the wand.

Harry's fingers tingled as he held the wand in his hand. He slowly stroked his thumb over the bulbous tip, an expression of delight on his face. 'Ohhh,' he sighed happily, 'this feels wonderful. I never knew anything could feel like this.' The wand twitched in his hand and pointed straight up at the ceiling. It felt alive and warm. Harry tightened his grip as he continued to stroke it lovingly and then suddenly, to his delight and amazement, several bursts of pearlescent sparks shot from the tip and arced gracefully in the air before plummeting back to earth and splattering the three of them with white drops that gradually turned clear before disappearing alltogether. 

Snape gave Ollivander a what-did-I-tell-you look. 'And he's only eight. Imagine what he'll be capable of at thirteen.'

'I'm eleven, Harry corrected, then flashed Snape an enormous grin. 'Do you really think I can learn to use it? It's awfully big.'

'Yes,' Snape said, taking a step toward him, 'long and quite thick, but very flexible. Possibly it will take some time to learn to wield it properly, but you're apparently magically gifted.' He stepped closer; Harry could feel heat radiating from the black robes.

'I think eventually it will be a very nice fit, Potter,' Snape said softly. 'Very nice indeed.'

'Very curious,' said Ollivander. He had also moved closer to Harry, who felt suddenly horribly nervous and smaller than usual. 'Very curious indeed.'

'What?' Harry and Snape asked together, although Snape's voice was nothing like the high-pitched squeak that escaped Harry.

'I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. It's curious that this wand should choose you. It has a twin, you see. The twin that gave you that scar.'

Harry self-consciously rubbed his forehead.

'Although maybe not curious at all, now that I think on it,' Ollivander continued. 'The boy who bought its twin was very like you. An Orphan.'

Harry opened his mouth but Snape scowled and he shut it again.

'Dark haired,' Ollivander went on. 'Fair skinned. Luscious and tender and pink. Delectable. Just like you. He went on to do great things. Terrible–' Ollivander quivered as he touched a thin, age spotted finger to Harry's forehead. 'Very terrible, but truly fantastic. I think we can expect great things from you as well, and with Severus as your teacher. . .' Ollivander's fingers moved to Harry's wand and stroked lightly. The wandmaker's whole body rippled and suddenly went rigid as Snape's fingers dug viciously into his shoulder.

'Things you'll have experienced for the last time if you ever touch his wand again without my express permission.'

Snape wrapped his long fingers possessively around Harry's wand, just above Harry's own hand, and Ollivander quickly jerked away. Harry shivered. He didn't like Ollivander very much, and the expression on Snape's face was terrifying, but his father's hand felt wonderfully warm and strong next to his. Harry's wand seemed to like it too; it to pulsed and throbbed in their combined grip before once again spraying a burst of pearly white sparks into the air. 

Harry gasped, a tremendous sense of well-being rising up from his belly as the sparks rained down onto his upturned face. Magic felt _amazing_! Snape must have thought so too; he smiled, actually _smiled_ , down at Harry.

'Yes,' Ollivander said sourly. 'I see how things are. Seven galleons, if you please, Mr Potter. Good-day, Severus. It's been lovely seeing you again.'

'Ah,' said Snape, his eyes still on Harry. 'But you haven't seen me yet, have you? And I just remembered that my wand could use a good polishing. You can tend to that for me, can't you?'

Ollivander's pale tongue darted out and circled his lips again. 'Oh my, yes! Certainly! Whenever you like.'

'Potter,' Snape said, pulling a small pouch from his pocket, 'run down the street to Fortescue's, get a table and order two ice-cream cones. This shouldn't take long. I've been keeping my wand very well oiled lately, but there's always benefit from the master's touch.'

'Perhaps,' Ollivander began.

Harry watched in squeamish horror as that pale tongue – like a fat grub, really – slipped out of the wandmaker's mouth and just sat there, resting on Ollivander's bottom lip. Snape, too, had his eyes on the tongue, but he didn't look like it made him feel ill at all.

'Perhaps,' Ollivander said again. 'The boy should stay and watch. It would be good training for him. See how it's done when it's done correctly. A fine learning experience, don't you agree?' A thin eyebrow creeped up his wrinkled forehead.

Harry nodded excitedly and then pouted as Snape shook his head, a stern expression on his face. 

'I'll teach you everything you need to now about the care and feeding of a magical tool. When we get home. Now run along. The longer you wait, the longer this will take, and the ice-cream will be gone before I get there.'

Harry gave him a confused look. 'But that doesn't make–.'

'Go. Shoo! Be off, damn you! I'm in a bit of a hurry here.'

'Can't I just–' Harry looked at Snape with real longing. He could see the outline of his father's wand in its hidden pocket and it would be interesting to see Ollivander's delicate fingers bringing out the true beauty of the wood.

'No. Ice-cream. Two ice-creams. Eh, I'm feeling generous. You can get one for yourself as well. A practice cone, as it were. But only if you leave NOW!'

Snape's bellow seemed to shake the stacked boxes. Gritting his teeth in a painful smile, nodding like an idiot, Harry thanked Ollivander and hurried to the door, turning around just in time to see Snape drag the old wandmaker bodily behind the sales counter. Ollivander stooped – probably for a tin of polish, or something – and Harry saw no more as the door slammed shut in his face.


End file.
